


...Some Sunny Day

by josephina_x



Series: Dimension 46'\-C [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Gen, Post-Series, Post-Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josephina_x/pseuds/josephina_x
Summary: The Prophecy had been derailed, mistimed and delayed, twisted and broken. This was not to plan....Right?





	...Some Sunny Day

**Author's Note:**

> Fic: ...Some Sunny Day  
> Fandom: Gravity Falls  
> Pairing: n/a  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Spoilers: through the end of the series, and some of the books (Journal #3)  
> Summary: The Prophecy had been derailed, mistimed and delayed, twisted and broken. This was not to plan.
> 
> ...Right?  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.  
> AN: I have so many of these things bouncing around in my head right now, you guys. You have no idea. ...Just be glad that I’m only writing down the ones that almost make sense and aren’t _complete_ and utter garbage, yeah? ^_^;;
> 
> Still got a couple that are truly evil that _really_ want out, though. We’ll see.

\---

Bill woke up.

He shifted in bed restlessly, eyes not quite opening as he rocked his head back and forth slightly, before rolling over onto his side. He curled up a bit, under the blanket.

He settled.

His breathing evened out and he seemed to fall asleep again.

Stanford, who was sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the room, watched him do this.

Ford tapped his gun against his shin, and grimaced. --His ‘sci-fi’ gun, that is, not one of Stanley’s ten guns hidden in various places around the Shack that he still hadn’t told Ford the locations of ( _and a sarcastic ‘thank you, Stanley,’ for that one_ ).

He’d been sitting there with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest for almost thirty minutes now, on Cipher watch.

Stanley had dragged Bill’s sorry ass into the Shack not too much earlier than that, citing things like food and blankets and _actual beds_ and sleep.

...as if Bill deserved any of those things.

At the look that he’d gotten from Stanley for even suggesting _that_ thought out loud, Ford had felt like he’d taken that same gun, put it to his own chest, and pulled the trigger.

...If he had, it probably would’ve hurt less.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure _how_ he felt about what had felt like a slap-in-the-face about-face from his brother on the subject of the insane triangle. His insides were a mixed mess at this point.

The Zodiac hadn’t worked. He’d _barely_ managed to convince Stanley to go along with it in the first place, and it hadn’t worked. --It had _hurt his brother_ , in fact.

When Ford had given an unconscious and tied-up Bill Cipher to Stanley, to watch for him briefly, while he focused on getting the Zodiac back together and ready, he had _not_ been expecting what had followed, start-to-finish. Stanley had untied and given first-aid to the triangle, not realizing that he was Bill, thinking that the human-looking triangle had simply been possessed by him. --In retrospect, the mistake had been understandable, since Ford hadn’t made it clear that he’d seen Bill transform from his petrified statue into human form, and Ford _had_ been able to physically carry him inside the barrier. (Ford hated to admit it, but he’d been so worked up over Cipher being back that he’d literally _forgotten_ that the unicorn hair barrier that had acted as a highly-effective shield against Bill before, on more than one occasion, was still in place.) But that hardly left him feeling any better about it. If Cipher had woken up in the meantime...

Well, he hadn’t woken up, luckily for them all, and so Ford had tied him up again -- hand-and-foot this time, following Stanley’s grumbling and reticent yet useful suggestions -- carried him outside the barrier, and dumped Bill in the center of the circle. Everyone had gotten in place, and Ford had felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief as they had all held hands and that calm blue glow had enveloped every single one of them.

...Up until Cipher’s eyes had flown open, that is, and Ford had had to stand firm and watch as Bill jack-knifed in the middle of the circle, arching his back and screaming bloody murder as blue fire and light seemed to envelop him, burning into him from his back forwards.

Ford had tensed, clenched his jaw, and held on, steeling himself against Bill’s very human-sounding cries. He’d glanced around the circle at everyone’s paling faces, hoping and praying that the others would do the same and see this through, and that it would all be over soon.

\--up until he’d felt Stan rip his hand out of his own grip, and Ford had realized in the next second that the two-tone scream hadn’t actually been torn from one throat. It hadn’t just been Bill that had been screaming, it had been _both Bill and his brother_ that had been screaming, together, in unison.

Ford closed his eyes and lay his forehead down on his knees.

\---

_EARLIER THAT AFTERNOON:_

_“Stanley?” Ford said, whipping his head around to stare down at his brother, because why had he pulled away so abruptly? Why was he-- yelling?_

_“Mr. Pines?” he heard Soos say, concernedly._

_Ford started after his brother, letting go of Valentino’s hand. “Stanley, what--” he said as he watched his brother take two stumbling steps away from the circle and drop down onto his knees on the ground, facing away from him. He was grabbing at his right forcep and…_

_...his right shoulder was smoking?_

_“STANLEY!” Ford yelled, alarmed, rushing to his side. He dropped to his knees and grabbed his left shoulder, circled his back with his other arm protectively as he felt Stanley still shuddering, choking like he couldn’t breathe, eyes squeezed shut like he was holding back tears._

_He was still shaking. His shoulder was still_ smoking _, right where..._

_Ford’s eyes widened._

_“_ No… _” Ford gasped out, whipping his head around and staring back at Bill._

_Bill let out a last long high-pitched whine, almost a whimper, and slumped sideways. His back was facing him, but Ford could tell from the posture that he was clearly unconscious again._

_Ford’s eyes traced the burnt and smoking ruin of cloth material across the entirely of Bill’s back, distorted due to the lay of the fabric, certainly, but... he saw the blue light fade away slowly in the shape of a distinct pattern underneath it, and he_ recognized _that symbol._

_He didn’t even have to check his brother’s shoulder to know for certain what it must look like just then._

_He felt sick._

_“I’m, I’m fine…” he heard Stan say shakily. “I’m fine, haha, just… just gotta c-catch my breath and… and...” He watched his brother swallow hard, get a shaky smile, and start to push himself to his feet._

_Ford grabbed onto him at the waist and used his weight to pull him back down._

_“No, no Stanley, I-- I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know. I didn’t know that… that...” Ford swallowed hard and hugged his brother to him._

_“I can do this, Ford. It’s fine,” his brother told him. “I’ve-- had worse. It’s fine.” His brother looked at him, leaned into him. “It’ll… get rid of him, right?” his brother asked him, “It’ll keep the kids safe,” he half-said, half-asked under his breath, “I can do it for them,” and Ford’s heart nearly broke right then and there._

_“--You don’t have to. I’ll find another way,” he told his brother, hugging him close, laying his head down on his left shoulder as the children came near. “I’ll find another way.”_

\---

Ford raised his head wearily and stared at Bill, still asleep on his brother’s bed in the Shack.

Bill, who his brother had given a bed, and a blanket, and was letting sleep as much as he wanted.

Bill, who Stanley would in all likelihood, given his cited to-do list the half-hour prior, probably try to feed something to, once he was awake long enough for him to do it.

Bill, who Stanley was apparently fully prepared to kill again to protect his family again, if it came to it, despite the sheer oddity of his other behavior thus far when it came to Cipher. Ford hadn't even had to ask him the question -- Stanley had offered up the information in his usual ‘don’t worry, Ford’ manner, in what had seemed like an attempt to put him at ease.

Stanley didn’t seem to be actually trying to protect Cipher -- far from it! -- he was just… not seeming to be okay with the idea of having Bill possibly die from exposure to the elements? Or from a lack of his new body’s basic physical needs being met? It didn’t make much sense to Ford, that one way of killing him versus another might be… less than acceptable to Stanley. Ford himself would be happy with however and whatever would work, so long as Cipher stayed gone and he and his brother and the niblings wouldn’t be hurt by him anymore. Efficiency and expediency were preferable, of course, but Ford was realistic -- choices were few to begin with, and that might not be possible; he’d always thought Stan a practicalist, but apparently Stan _did_ have strong feelings on the issue of the method and the means himself. So, Stanley’s judgment likely wasn't _entirely_ skewed or compromised -- at least, not in any way that wasn't just his own convoluted and irrational reasoning process making things difficult for Ford again. But...

...Ford didn’t know what to do. His brother was attached to Bill, somehow -- perhaps due to Bill’s possession of him at the time of the memory gun wipe, perhaps due to the aborted use of the Zodiac circle during Weirdmageddon and its interaction with the anchor that had been burned into his brother’s shoulder all those years ago, perhaps even due to the second use of Zodiac circle well after its time; Ford didn’t know.

He didn’t know why the circle had done this this time, but not the last time. He didn’t know what, exactly, the use of the circle had done to either or both of them.

All he knew was that Bill and his brother were linked -- in a way he wasn’t sure how to break, let alone do more than suppress by keeping them both confined inside the Shack’s mystical barrier -- and that hurting the one of them would most likely result in hurting the other, if they ever ventured outside of it.

...And by that same line of reasoning, it was logical to conclude that _killing_ the one of them might...

He couldn’t risk losing Stanley again -- he just _couldn’t_. He’d _promised_ him he’d find another way, but...

He didn’t know what to do.

\---


End file.
